


Sanctum

by desk_mess



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, No beta we fall like Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desk_mess/pseuds/desk_mess
Summary: Crowley panics after Aziraphale asks what happened to his sunglasses.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Sanctum

**Author's Note:**

> This came out softer than I anticipated.

Crowley laid on the sofa in the back of the bookshop, legs on the seat and his arms and head thrown back over the armrest, the tips of his russet hair dancing on the floor. He sat up when Aziraphale took a seat at the opposite end, book in hand and silly glasses placed on the tip of his nose. Crowley's glasses, Aziraphale noted, were sat on a rare horizontal plane of the angel's pigsty of a desk. Aziraphale also noted that he hadn't seen the demon wearing them except for their escapades outside of the shop. Curious, Aziraphale set the book next to Crowley's glasses and turned to him, the demon having now buried himself in his phone. Aziraphale sighed and reached over, pushing the phone down and away from his companion's face. Crowley smiled up at Aziraphale, sunset gold eyes blown fully snake and crinkling slightly at the corners. "Hi?" the demon asked nervously. 

"Hello, dear. I have a question for you." 

"Shoot?" 

"Why haven't you been wearing your sunglasses in the shop?" Crowley cocked his head slightly and his hands found themselves threading through his scarf. When it finally clicked that  _ he doesn't like your eyes, you inconsiderate tosser, _ he shot up and grabbed his glasses, shoving them back on to hide the pain in his gaze. He settled down further away from Aziraphale. "Crowley?" the redhead huffed sadly before standing and making a beeline for the door. Aziraphale sprung up and followed him, wrapping his arms around Crowley's waist. "I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to upset you," he sighed, chin resting briefly on Crowley's shoulder. Aziraphale turned the demon around to peer up at him. "Could you tell me what I said that upset you so?" Crowley slouched and mumbled. "Pardon?" 

"You don't like my eyes," it was still a mumble but at least recognizably words. Aziraphale shook his head. 

"Oh, no, dear, what made you think that?" Aziraphale fingers curled into the demon's soft grey shirt. 

"You asked why I wasn't wearing my glasses anymore." 

"I didn't say I didn't like your eyes though, did I?" It was a genuinely confused and terrified question. "If I did, I am deeply sorry, sometimes my thoughts just escape me." Crowley yanked himself away from Aziraphale. 

"What's that supposed to mean?!" he burst. "'Your thoughts got away from you?!' You  _ do _ hate them!" Crowley turned and stomped for the door again. Aziraphale ran after him and grabbed his arm, spinning them around so he stood between the fleeing demon and the door. 

"Crowley," the man-shaped being in question huffed. "Crowley, dear, look at me." he huffed again. "Crowley, please look at me, love." he caved and his head turned just enough to see Aziraphale. "Thank you. Now if you'd be so kind as to let me explain?" Crowley nodded for him to continue. "Alright, thank you. Now listen to me closely. I do not hate your eyes, in fact I think they are quite beautiful and I have no quarrels with you not wearing your glasses. I just found it rather peculiar that you haven't been wearing them. Aside from random drunken conversations, you've had them on ever since they were invented. I was trying to think of reasons for the change, and none came to mind aside from you determining that I didn't dislike them, and feeling more free to let loose like I do around you." Aziraphale tugged lightly on Crowley and spun him to see his full face. The angel reached up slowly and gently removed the hipster sunglasses, slipping them into his shirt pocket. Crowley's sun-gold eyes barely rose over their horizon of tears and Aziraphale brought a handkerchief to flushed cheeks, patting away the tears that spilt free. "I'm sorry for upsetting you, my dear." Crowley shook his head frantically. 

"No! No, no, no. It wasn't your fault! I just have a problem with jumping to conclusions," Crowley explained, grabbing hold of Aziraphale's arms.

"Do you mind sitting down with me again and telling me why you haven't been wearing your glasses?" 

"Not at all, angel." Crowley was the first to reach the sofa where he flopped down, leaning against Aziraphale once the blonde had joined him with two glasses of wine. 

"I guess I just feel safe," Crowley said, taking a sip of red. "There's no one here that would hurt me, and you already knew about my eyes. They're kind of... a shield. Most humans and demons can't read my face without seeing my eyes. They can't tell how I'm feeling or thinking. Only you ever could. So taking them off around you never really made a difference. If demons could tell how I felt they'd probably bully me into submission so even in Hell I never took them off and humans would just think I was a witch or something. But I never worried about that here. It's like a safe-haven. Some kind of sanctum." 

Aziraphale looked around the shop, eyes landing first on the Pride flags scattered about, then moved to the small but priceless bobbles entrusted to him by the homeless he had fed, and finally the tapestries and feathers gifted to him by the racial minority groups he had sheltered. "Some kind of sanctum, indeed," Aziraphale agreed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you <3.


End file.
